


4th Period AP Biology

by godsamitdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Pining, Smart Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godsamitdean/pseuds/godsamitdean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For youwerefantastic in the 2014 DeanCas Secret Santa exchange. </p><p>Castiel Novak doesn't think that the boy at the lab table next to his in AP Biology is anything, with his tattered uniform and constant sleeping in class, but when he's assigned him as a partner for a project, things change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4th Period AP Biology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youwerefantastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwerefantastic/gifts).



> Prompt: Cas didn't have a high opinion of the boy with torn clothes and tired eyes who slept through each lesson in the back of his Biology class, but working with him on a group project sure does change things.
> 
> I’m sorry for any inaccuracies/mistakes. Love and thanks to my amazing beta and friend Maddie, and I hope you enjoy this, youwerefantastic! Happy Secret Santa!

Castiel Novak is an overachiever, apparently.

Everyone tells him this; his parents with pride, his friends with humor, and his rivals with barely disguised disgust. His rivals also tell him that he has a stick up his ass. Castiel doesn't think that he is an overachiever, or that he has a stick up his ass. He just enjoys working hard, and he tries to do as much as he can. Not because he's a workaholic. Castiel enjoys learning, participating, and helping others. He volunteers at the library and the homeless shelter because he wants to. And he respects those like him.

But Castiel simply cannot stand people who don't try. Namely, Dean Winchester.

Dean started school at Sioux Falls College Preparatory School in the middle of Castiel's senior year, appearing in his fourth period AP Biology class right after winter break. Everyone seemed taken with the tall, handsome, green-eyed charmer, even if his clothes were oversized and he rarely spoke to anyone. The word in the hallways, according to one of Castiel's sisters, was that Dean transferred from the public high school because of a scandal involving supposed devil worship and wild sex with an porn star turned chastity counselor. Castiel didn't believe a word of it, but he was intrigued by how the boy managed to look cool and pulled together when he was walking into class with obvious hand-me-downs and bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Castiel calmly observed Dean from the lab table next to his for several weeks. They would exchange ‘hello’s and ‘good morning’s before class commenced, and then Castiel would spend the rest of the time admiring the boy's profile admiring the boy's profile and how good he looked in his large black glasses and threadbare uniform (white or black button-down and dress pants), until Dean started sleeping in class.

It started off with little things, Dean nodding off during a lecture or notes, only to jerk awake a few seconds later. Castiel found this slightly amusing, and Dean would catch his eye and smile in embarrassment before returning his gaze to his notebook, only to fall asleep again a few minutes later.

It steadily got worse and worse, until Dean got to the point where he is now, where he sleeps through the entire class, every day. And Castiel steadily grew more and more annoyed with it, until he got to the point where he is now, where he rolls his eyes at Dean's sleeping form and ignores him when he offers a greeting. Castiel might be a trifle excessive and even rude, Castiel thinks, but Dean still tries to be cordial. But Castiel has no time to bother with people that treat their classes like they do not matter.

Charlie, Dean's lab partner, and Gabriel, Castiel's lab partner and close friend, are probably the only people besides Castiel who notice Dean's naps. The teacher barely looks in the back of the room, and she trusts her students to do their work. That trust is misplaced, Castiel thinks. But it's not like Castiel is going to tell on Dean. Castiel has more on his mind than an ordinary, albeit good-looking, slacker, after all, and Castiel is decidedly not a tattletale, no matter how juvenile that term might be. 

Castiel truly doesn’t care that Dean isn't trying, that those expressive green eyes are constantly hiding behind freckled lids. He doesn't care that someone seemingly smart is wasting potential. He's not ranting at the lunch table about how he despises slackers and people who don't give a shit. He's not spending an excessive amount of time thinking about and staring at Dean. He's not.

No one believes him.

Castiel manages to keep a cool, outward indifference to Dean for a month longer before it all goes to hell one Monday in April.

* * *

“Okay, class, settle down,” Mrs. Tran calls from the front of the room. Castiel slides his cell phone in his pocket (where he's been looking at the volunteer schedule for the food drive) and pays attention. Beside him, Gabriel fiddles with a rubber band and accidentally snaps it into Becky Rosen's hair. She doesn't appear to notice, and he cackles quietly. Castiel elbows him sharply in the ribs and he sobers up, looking at Mrs. Tran, who is now handing out white packets to the students and talking about an upcoming test. Castiel receives one with a quiet “thank you” and inspects the papers. He groans.

Partner presentations.

Normally, Castiel is fine with partnerships. He's content to do most of the background work and let the other person skate by, as long as they present or deal with the part of the project that requires human interaction. But in biology, Mrs. Tran is a stickler for both parties splitting all aspects of the project equally, including the oral presentation part.

At least Gabriel is his partner, though. They've been friends for longer than Castiel can remember, and he knows Gabe better than Castiel knows himself.

But as soon as Castiel comforts himself with that thought, it's shot to the pieces by Mrs. Tran's next words.

"And, to get you guys to interact beyond the bare minimum with your new project partners, you can sit with them. If everyone on the right side of the table could stand."

 

Castiel nearly thunks his head on the table in frustration, but he gets up and stands with his books next to his seat obligingly as Mrs. Tran moves up and down the rows, pointing to seats and calling out names. Charlie elbows Dean as she stands up, and he jerks awake.

“Abbadon and Fergus,” she says, and a fiery-haired girl in a 'The Devil Made Me Do It' t-shirt throws a positively venomous look at a ratty, smirking Goth kid as he takes a seat next to her. Castiel wonders if they'll make it through the next few weeks without killing each other. 

“Gabriel and Kali.”

Gabe smirks as the beautiful Indian girl sits in Castiel's old seat, and he leans over to whisper something to her. Kali slaps him. Castiel laughs. Gabe glares at him in mock anger.

“Dean and Castiel.”

Castiel stiffens at the two words, glancing over to look at his new seat partner. Dean looks about as dissastisfied with this arrangement as Castiel feels (which is not a lot but still a significant amount) but he willingly clears his stuff away to his side of the table. Castiel gingerly sits down on the black stool, placing his textbook and binder in front of him, the cursed white packet on top.

“Hey Cas,” Dean offers, a note of tentativity in his voice. Castiel nods back, inspecting the project summary to avoid meeting his eyes. “Hello.”

They sit in silence as Mrs. Tran continues assigning seats, ending with a “Victor and Jo” near the front left of the room. Her heels click as she heads back to her position at the head of the class and begins her lecture.

While Castiel isn't excited about working with Dean, he does find biology projects intriguing. He says as much to Dean, but receives no response. Castiel looks over, and as he should have expected, Dean is sleeping again.

Without an aisle and another person separating them, Dean looks different. His clothes aren't only too large for him, but ragged and threadbare. Castiel can see where they have been patched, stitched back together, and remade. His glasses are neatly taped together at both hinges and in the front, and are currently placed on the desk next to his (closed) textbook. Dean's face is charming and relaxed in sleep, but there are creases and dark circles around his eyes that do not belong on an eighteen-year-old. Castiel sighs and turns back to the front, making a mental note to find Dean after class and tell him what he missed. He's not going to fail this project because his partner decided to slack off.

* * *

“Castiel!”

He turns at the sound of his name. In the hallway behind him is Dean, who runs to catch up to Castiel. Dean falls in step next to him, and Castiel shoots a bemused glance at the other boy.

“I just wanted to let you know that Tran emailed me the assignment info. I can forward it to you, and then we can meet after school to discuss the project? In the library, in one of those study rooms?”

Castiel is surprised, to say the least, but he keeps his expression indifferent. He didn't expect Dean to actually want to participate in the project. Something stirs in Castiel at Dean's enthusiasm, but he pushes it down.

“That sounds like a good idea. What is the project?” he responds, stopping at his locker. Dean leans against the one next to his.

“We have to write a thirty-page paper about chromosome 13, then do a two-minute crash course on it. General info, common complications, disorders associated with it, all that jazz.” Hmm. Castiel already knew all of this, but he didn't expect Dean to know.

“Interesting,” Castiel murmurs, half to himself, and he turns to the last number on the lock before the locker swings open. He puts his science book back and grabs a Post-It from the inside of the door. He scribbles down an email address and hands the paper to Dean. "Here's my email. Please forward the information to me, I shall read it during my study hall. And yes, this afternoon at the library works. Shall we say from three thirty to five thirty?"

Dean winces. “Two hours, man? That seems like a lot. Can we do till four thirty?”

Castiel blinks. They've just began the most important project of the semester, and already Dean is slacking off. They need to sort the information, start research, plan and meet with their teacher, and much more if they don't want to cram in everything at the last minute. But of course Dean crams in everything at the last minute. Castiel should've seen this coming, but he can’t really expect anything with Dean Winchester.

“Of course, Dean. An hour will be adequate to begin the process.”

“Thanks, man,” Dean says, a note of relief gracing his features before he runs off. Castiel wonders why his eyes are so expressive if he is as closed off as the rumors say he is.

* * *

School ends at two forty-five in the afternoon, and Castiel is at the public library by three. It's a beautiful building, elegantly carved stone on the outside and polished dark wood on the interior. It feels like the library of an ancient emperor, rather than one of a small, dinky town in South Dakota.

Castiel climbs the winding stairs to the study rooms and claims his favourite one: right on the corner of the building, with windows overlooking the main street and the river, ambling lazily along in the early spring sunshine. He gazes at the playground on the other side for a moment before turning away, slipping off his trench coat and laying it neatly on the back of a chair. He reaches for his leather satchel and pulls out a laptop, a birthday present from Michael. It glistens brightly from the light of the windows. He opens it up and turns it on.

Castiel read the email in study hall, and now he's pulling up the resources he accumulated from his foray into the Internet a few hours ago. He creates a folder to share with Dean, and begins to outline a body paragraph on several genes present on the chromosome. He checks the time after what feels like only a few minutes. Three forty. Dean is late.

Castiel rolls his eyes. He doesn't know why he expected anything more of Dean. He probably went home to sleep some more, or smoke or drink or something like that. Typical slacker behavior.

At three fifty, Castiel is ready to give up and go home, but Dean bursts through the door, out of breath with his glasses askew the moment Castiel shuts his laptop.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to take my little brother to soccer practice, and something happened with a friend's car, so I had to fix that real quick and then by the time I got here it was super late so I just ran and that's why I'm out of breath.”

Castiel smiles at Dean, who flops down at the table with a sigh. “That is all right,” he says. “Perhaps we could extend our session for longer?”

Dean shakes his head. “Sorry, man, I've got to pick up Sammy and then head to work. But could we do this again tomorrow?”

Castiel sighs inwardly, but agrees. “That sounds fine. Shall we begin?”

Dean smiles. “Absolutely.” He pulls out a notebook and several computer printouts, stacking them neatly in front of him. “I did research in the computer lab during study hall and started an outline.” He pushes the notebook towards Castiel, and points to a diagram on the first page. “I think we should include a table of contents and glossary, just for convenience's sake. I also found this…”

As they work, Castiel becomes more and more surprised at how much Dean knows, not only about this topic, but about the class in general. He's spouting off terms and information “like nobody's business,” as Gabriel would say. Dean’s face transforms from a tired, dark wreck to a boy's face of youthful exuberance and excitement. Castiel can tell that Dean loves science, and he can tell that it will transmit onto paper. Working with Dean is enjoyable, even pleasurable, to Castiel's disbelief, and he soon finds himself engaged in the conversation and the work.

The rest of the time flies by, and too soon Dean is packing up to pick up his brother. He's still talking excitedly about Trisomy 13 as he throws on his jacket and grabs his backpack. At the doors he stops and turns.

“See ya Cas,” he says, a half smile on his face and a sparkle in those green eyes. Castiel returns the smile, and something flutters in his stomach for the second time that day. “Goodbye Dean. Same time tomorrow?”

Dean smiles wider. “It's a date.”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the two boys meet every day after school, and Castiel finds himself more and more drawn to the enigma that is Dean Winchester. He still sleeps in class, but the day after the chapter test, Castiel spies a large red 105 on the top of his paper and shoots Dean an appraising look. Dean blushes and pushes his glasses up, and Castiel smiles a bit, turning back to look over his own 98 percent.

Their sessions grow more productive and yet more personal, Castiel finding himself telling Dean about his family, five brothers and two sisters. Dean laughs at some of the stories. Castiel finds that he wants to hear that laugh over and over again. Dean in turn tells Castiel about himself.

He has a brother, Sam, who he loves more than anything. Sam also goes to the school, as a freshman. Dean works at an auto shop and a diner called The Roadhouse after school and on the weekends to make some extra cash. When Castiel asks about his parents, Dean stiffens and changes the subject to his astrological sign (Aquarius).

They talk about cars, and Dean waxes poetic about his 1967 Chevrolet Impala, to Castiel’s amusement, and then looks over in shock and disgust when Castiel tells him that he drives a Honda. Dean pretends to shun him for the rest of the session, and it makes Castiel laugh, which makes something glitter in those eyes.

Castiel thinks that they are friends now. It makes him happy, but also makes him want more.

A week in, when they're working in that same study room, Castiel asks Dean why he sleeps in class. He doesn't expect a response, but Dean says, almost too casually,

“I work really late every night, usually to about one in the morning. I still have to do homework, clean the apartment, etc, so normally I'm up until three or four in the morning. Sleep for a few hours, then it's time to get ready for school. Bio's my easiest subject, and Mrs. Tran knows me because Sam is friends with her kid, Kevin. So she doesn't really care what I do in class, as long as I keep my grades up.”

It's not the answer Castiel expected, but then again, he doesn't really know what he did think. He should've known that Dean had a deeper meaning behind his actions, and that's something Castiel should have expected. Dean keeps surprising him, though. Castiel doesn't know what to make of it.

* * *

The day before they have to present, the paper is finished, the PowerPoint is cleaned up, and Castiel is ridiculously nervous.

“Dude, just relax,” Dean laughs from his chair in what is now known as their study room. Castiel is fumbling through his notecards, his usually deep voice going squeaky when he attempts to speak. He drops one and curses, Dean laughing again. “It’s a presentation, not the rising of Lucifer. Loosen up.”

Castiel glares at him. “I'm sorry, Dean. I did not realize my lack of ‘people skills’ is so amusing. I do not possess the skills required to conduct a smooth performance, unlike you. However, I shall endeavor to appease you.”

Dean only laughs harder, but he stands up and heads over to Castiel. “Dude, I'm not asking you to change the way you act. I'm just saying that you don't have to be so nervous. You know this stuff backwards and forwards.” Dean takes the notecards from Castiel's hands and leans back with his hands bracing himself on the table, Castiel in front of him. “Just pretend you're talking to me.”

Castiel inhales, and begins again.

“Chromosome 13 is one of the 23 pairs of chromosomes in humans. There are normally two copies-”

“Cas! You’re not a machine or some alien guy. You're a human, talking to humans. You’ll do fine. Just breathe and let go!”

Castiel slumps. “I can't. Dean, I don't know. I can't do this, I'm no good with people.” He sighs, and he knows he's being ridiculously overdramatic, but this is exactly why he despises presentations. He doesn't have the presence to share information well. On the contrary, he unnerves his audience, and his language becomes more rigid the more frustrated he is with himself, as seen right now. He sighs again. “I apologize. I realize my behavior is quite inane.”

Castiel stares at the floor in some semblance of defeat. He watches as Dean's boots move closer to his, until their toes are practically touching. Castiel feels rough hands on his cheeks, and Dean tilts his face up until he is forced to meet those eyes.

“Cas, you can do it. I know you can.” His breath ghosts over Castiel's face, and he breathes in.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, and he looks up into those damn green lakes, shining with something Castiel wants to know about, and someone's breath hitches; Castiel doesn't know whose, and his eyes are closing and he's about to lean in and then Dean jerks away.

“I…I really need to go.” And Dean flees the room, his leather jacket still on the table, his name still formed on Castiel's lips.

* * *

Dean doesn't come to school the next day, or the next. Sam finds him during school hours and tells Castiel that Dean's working extra shifts at the diner and the garage,  but there's something in his brown eyes, so much like Dean's and yet so different, that tells him that there’s more to it than that. Sam then tells him that Dean is working later than normal on Friday, until five in the morning. He asks Castiel if he can come over and stay with Sam for the night. Castiel is confused, but agrees. Sam looks like he wants to say more. Castiel runs off before he can open his mouth.

He belatedly realizes that he forgot to give Dean's jacket back.

Biology is torture, and Castiel has to give the presentation by himself. It isn't as good as when he had Dean to help him. He rambles and almost forgets half the information and he's talking too quickly and it “really really sucked,” as Gabriel so eloquently puts it after lunch. But Mrs. Tran's mother instincts must tell her that Castiel is not okay, so she gives him a higher grade than he really deserves.

The paper gets an 110 percent, though. Castiel knows it's because of Dean.

The rest of the week passes, and Castiel is in an unreasonable funk. Even his brothers notice, and they leave him alone after Luke makes a comment on his mood and Castiel nearly breaks the kitchen table. The weather is worse, a constant torrent of rain that is horribly out-of-season. Normally, Castiel loves the rain, but this time, he just wants it to stop.

Castiel should've known that Dean didn't reciprocate his feelings. He thought that there might be some interest, thought that there was something in those eyes that gave away a hint of feelings, but no. Dean ran. And Castiel doesn't understand why he hasn't shown his face.

On Friday night he heads out to the address Sam gave him, in an apartment complex on the poorer side of town. He hopes Dean isn't home when he arrives.

* * *

The rain is truly horrible, a wild thunderstorm that has Castiel soaked to his bones from his car to the door of the apartment building. He presses the button that is labeled Winchester, expecting Sam's voice on the other end of the intercom. “Hello?” he asks.

“Cas?”

Fuck. Of course it's Dean.

Castiel breathes in before responding. “Yes, it's me. I've come to watch Sam?”

It's a few seconds before Dean responds. “Dude, I'm not working tonight. It's Ellen's birthday. The Roadhouse is closed. Plus, Sam's at a sleepover.”

Castiel wants to bang his head against the buzzer in frustration, but he restrains himself. Instead, he says, “I apologize. There must have been a confusion. Sam requested me to come watch him tonight, but I shall leave,” and makes to run to his car, but Dean stops him.

“Sam asked you to- whatever. It's pouring out there, man. Come on up. Wait out the storm.” The door clicks open, and Dean turns the intercom off.

Castiel steps inside and breathes a huge sigh of relief that he's out of the rain, then promptly tenses up again. He's about to be alone with Dean. Who knows that Castiel likes him.

Fuck.

Castiel takes the two flights of stairs up anyway, because if he's going to be uncomfortable, he's going to do it without being rude and turning down Dean's offer.

Dean opens the door for him, and Castiel's mouth might water a bit. He's wearing jeans and a ratty t-shirt, and it's kind of pathetic how hot Castiel finds an oversized band shirt when it's blessed by the honor of being worn by Dean Winchester, albeit right now with a shocked expression.

“Cas, you're completely soaked!” Dean cries out, and then runs inside, returning with a towel several seconds later. He instructs Castiel to strip off his trench coat, and Castiel does so, while Dean towels his hair dry and then wraps the towel around Castiel. “Sit in the kitchen, I'll find you something to wear,” he orders, and Castiel obliges, watching Dean disappear into his room and wondering at Dean's natural instinct to take care of Castiel. He wonders if he can eventually reciprocate that.

Dean's back in a minute, handing Castiel some jeans and a t-shirt, then points him to the closet bathroom in the corner. As Castiel shucks off his wet, clingy clothes in exchange for some dry ones, he stares at himself in the mirror.

Blue eyes, perpetually mussed dark hair, skin still pale from winter. He's okay looking, decidedly average, unlike Dean, who has the face and figure of an Adonis underneath those tattered clothes. Clothes that he is letting Castiel wear. A gesture that probably means nothing to Dean, but makes Castiel feel warm on the inside.

Once he finishes drying and changing, he opens the door and walks to the kitchen, where Dean is fiddling with something. Castiel walks up behind him curiously, and Dean jumps a foot in the air when Castiel rests a hand on Dean's shoulder. He relaxes, and hands Castiel a mug of tea. Castiel smiles, and thanks him. Dean only blushes and pushes his glasses up.

They migrate to the couch in the next room, sitting awkwardly with hands curled around mugs and tension practically crackling in the air. It's horrible, honestly, sitting here with Dean with so many words that can’t be said between them, and Castiel wants to leave, but he can't. He speaks.

“I have your jacket in the car.”

Dean startles at the noise, and he pushes his glasses up from where they’ve fallen to the tip of his nose as he stared at the floor. “Oh, uh, thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Castiel responds, and they go back to staring at their hands before Dean breaks the silence.

“Cas, if this is about what happened on Tuesday, I swear I didn't mean to offend you or anything like that. I ran out of the room because I was actually kinda intimidated. You're crazy hot and I really like you, and shit, this is awkward. But I'm nothing, worthless, and I know you don't want me. Not at all. Or you really shouldn't, anyway.”

It's the last thing Castiel expects to come out of Dean's mouth. He opens his mouth to respond, but Dean talks over him.

“And I know it was really selfish of me to not go to school this week, but I was scared. I thought you would hate me for almost kissing you, and I thought it would ruin our friendship, and that's one thing I didn't want to fuck up but I did, I always do, and I'm sorry man. I know you don't like me like I like you, and I sound like a fucking preteen girl and I'm sorry man. I fuck everything up.”

Castiel blinks, then blinks again before he speaks, his voice unnaturally gravelly. “You do not believe that I hold great affection for you?” he asks, stunned. How could he not love, yes love, because he knows that that is the word for it, how could he not love Dean Winchester?

Dean laughs. “Of course you don't. Why would someone like you like someone like me? I'm nothing. I'm a freaking speck, my only job to take care of Sam and deal with whatever shit life throws at him.”

Castiel is shocked. “Why do you think that? Why do you think you are less than others?” He is honestly baffled at why Dean thinks himself worthless, because this boy sitting there is possibly the most important man in the universe. Castiel takes the tea out of Dean's hands and places it on the floor next to his, before he scoots closer to Dean and asks him to speak.

Dean takes a deep breath and begins.  

“My mom died when I was four. Arson. Dad basically went crazy when he found out. He became obsessed with hunting down the guy who did it, some demonic son of a bitch named Azazel. It became his entire world, killing this guy. Everything else, including his own fucking sons, came second.

“We moved around a lot, never staying in the same place for more than a few weeks. I did odd jobs and stole to get Sammy food, and Dad drank his way through his construction money. He was always pretty flighty, and sometimes I was afraid that he would go to a bar and not bother coming back.

“Sammy didn't understand for a long time why we kept moving, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t either. But Dad and him fought a lot. Sam wanted a normal life, he wanted to go to school in one place for more than a week. He stood up to Dad, the brave little shit. I could never do that. I just blindly followed him, like a good little soldier.

“Dad finally left when I was sixteen and Sammy was fourteen. He just up and disappeared in the middle of the night. We were staying at some shitty pay-by-the-hour motel in North Carolina. That night he was there and that morning he wasn't. His stuff was gone. Not even a note, man. But somehow, I knew that he was gone for good. So I packed Sam in the Impala, grabbed what we had, and just drove away.

“We came here after a few months on the road because I wanted to get Sam a real life, and because I couldn't work odd jobs for long in the same spot without people asking questions. We stayed with a friend of the family, Bobby Singer, the owner of the junkyard just outside town, for a few more months before he passed. Freaking liver cancer, can you believe it? I sold the junkyard, 'cause there's no way I could've afforded to keep that. I found this shitty apartment, and we moved here last year.

“The public schools suck, so I made Sam apply to the fancy school. He got in on almost a full scholarship. It’s enough that I can work to pay the rest and still pay the rent and for food. Sam's crazy smart, probably'll go to Stanford or MIT or something. That kid can do whatever he wants with his life.” Dean's eyes soften at the mention of his brother, and if Castiel wasn't sure that Sam was the most important thing in Dean's life before this moment, he sure does now.

Dean clears his throat and continues.

“He wanted me to apply too, said something about 'wasted potential' or that shit. He was on me for months, talking about college and stuff. I’m not cut out for college, but I caved in for the prep school. I submitted an application, and got a freaking full ride.”

Castiel's jaw drops. “A full ride?” he asks incredulously. He knows Dean is smart, these last few weeks have more than proved that, but that size of a scholarship? They only give three of those out a year, and there are literally hundreds of applicants. Castiel knows; he was one. But God knows no one else deserved that scholarship more than Dean Winchester.

Dean's cheeks flush pink at Castiel's reaction. He scrubs a hand over his hair, and says, embarrassed, “Yeah. I didn't believe it either.”

“Believe it?” Castiel is shocked. “Of course I believe it. And Dean, I am amazed. You are…you are something else.”

Dean blushes harder, and Castiel finds it unfairly adorable. Castiel continues.

“Dean, you are not worthless, as you put it. You are about as far from that as you can get. You are kind and brave and smart and generous and beautiful and important and you are not a grain of sand, you are the entire universe.”

Dean doesn't look convinced, but he does look more vulnerable than anytime Castiel has seen him. Castiel doesn't know what to do. His arms dangle at his sides, useless, until he uses them to push the magnificent Dean Winchester on his back on the couch. Dean looks up at him with confusion and something else in those damn green eyes. Castiel hovers above, plucking his glasses off and placing them on the floor before he tangles his fingers with Dean's. Castiel whispers, “You are the stars” before his mouth meets lips.

It's awkward, at first, and for a split second Dean doesn't kiss back. Castiel is afraid that this was the wrong thing to do; that Dean is going to hate him, and he almost pulls away, but Dean makes a small noise in the back of his throat and gives as good as he's getting.

It might be seconds, it might be hours, but they kiss on that beat-up couch in Dean's living room for too long and for not long enough. When they need to breathe, Castiel sits back and pulls Dean up, and Dean rests his head on Castiel's shoulder. The only sound in the room is the inhales and exhales of the two boys, and Castiel turns to press a gentle kiss to Dean's hair.

Their fingers are still intertwined, and neither of them want to let go.

Castiel doesn't think he has to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you want knowledge on the science in this chapter, here's the Wikipedia page for Chromosome 13:
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chromosome_13_%28human%29
> 
> and here's a US National Library of Medicine link:
> 
> http://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/chromosome/13
> 
> Happy (late) Holidays!
> 
> My tumblr: amoroustiel.tumblr.com


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